


To Pull Your Weight

by Bobblychicken



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Fire and Rescue, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobblychicken/pseuds/Bobblychicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of my Tumblr peeps fancied a one-off of Windlifter having Dusty undergo some strength training. 'Nuff said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Pull Your Weight

**Author's Note:**

> I admit that a lot of the particulars in this fic I pretty much pulled out of my ass, so let's just have fun with this, mmkay?

It was beginning to head toward Summer in Piston Peak National Park, and the Air Attack Team had just arrived, all within days of each other, refreshed after the off-season and chomping at the bit to get back to the work they loved the most.

When they first get there, the place smells the same as ever; musty and piney and old and good. It's dirty from being mostly unoccupied for the last eight months. The Chief doles out the assignments and everybody gets straight to work getting everything fit to live in again. Bugs and spiders are crawling out everywhere, and there's so much dust you'd think the base was on fire.

First things first; the main hangar, because that's where the kitchen is. The main hangar always gets done right from the get-go, and once it's spotless, Blade is more than content to let everyone kick back and enjoy the first meal together on the base while the rest of the place is still a mess. The well gets hooked up, the gas and electricity turned on, and all the wasp nests gotten rid of where they've taken over under the eaves of all the hangars.

Dusty had flown in a few days ago. Windlifter had had a feeling that this season would be busy. Nothing that they would be overwhelmed with, certainly, but enough to where just a bit of extra help would be appreciated. He's always seemed to have these feelings regarding what weather conditions would produce what, and the team had found him right again and again. He knew the flood was coming last autumn, and sometimes he could even tell where a fire might change direction even before the wind blew it forth. It was no small wonder why the big green Sikorsky was second in command, and Blade always welcomed, and sometimes even sought out, Windlifter's counsel and advice.

The team had all been eagerly awaiting his arrival, always happy to see him and have him on for a season, but had respectfully deferred to their Chief to greet him first. Dusty had wanted nothing more than to leap up against the red and white chopper and embrace him after such a long period of separation from his Bonded Companion, but held off. They still had their rank and relationship as professionals to take into account. The two touched noses, and then Blade surprised Dusty and everyone else by moving forward to nuzzle and press the side of his body against the smaller aircraft's.

"I think they're getting better at this." Dipper remarked at Windlifer's side.

The Skycrane regarded her with an understanding glance. Both plane and helicopter could sympathize, having been Bonded Companions since Dipper's second year on the team, and despite their glaring differences it was a remarkably effortless and easy-going Companionship. They knew how difficult it must be to have to be parted for so long.

Dusty was in Maru's garage now, getting "suited up", already in his firefighter livery and just now having his landing gear switched out. The tug had designed a system after the former crop duster's second season with them that made the process less of a stress to assimilate back into. He'd gone out with Blade the next day and was put through the wringer in Augerin Canyon to break off the rust and get used to flying with pontoons again.

The first few weeks had been spent rather idly, tending to some odd job or other around the base and going out to take care of the occasional fire, which were on the smaller side. The aircraft among the team had set up a rotation as to who got to fly out, as these little fires were hardly worth the entire team being sent out, and Dusty and Dipper in particular were secretly praying amongst themselves for Windlifter's forecast for this year's fire season to hurry up and come true at this point. In the meantime, they all tended to what hobbies they had to occupy their minds with outside of firefighting. Dipper to her gardening, the jumpers to their daredevil stunts and maintaining their dirt course. And of course, Windlifter to his weightlifting.

It was something that Dusty in particular liked to sit and watch. Helicopters were such fascinating things to him, and probably to a lot of fixed-wing aircraft even to the point of envy. How cool would it be to simply stop mid-flight and just hang there, he would wonder? Or to be able to just float around in whatever direction you wanted? And Skycranes like Windlifter were a real testament to the versatility of rotorcraft.

It was heading toward noon, and Dusty had just arrived back from a fortunately (or else not so fortunately to some of the team) unfruitful survey of the valley, scouting for fires. Windlifter had already finished his workout for the day, and was currently over in one of the grassier areas of the base, humming to himself in a broken pattern, going from out loud to in his head and back, the volume wavering a bit as he took in the scenery down below.

Dusty had eventually come to sit beside him, leaning back into his tail gear as he idly chewed the end of a wheat stalk. It was an absolutely gorgeous day out. Not too hot, just the barest bit of a breeze blowing. There were all kinds of bugs making all kinds of noises. The little plane looked over at the massive helicopter, of which his frame could fit within the span of the larger aircraft's landing gear. He then looked back down, pursing his lips thoughtfully before looking back down into the valley for a few moments before turning back toward Windlifter.

"Hey, Windlifter, can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," the big green chopper responded in a soft tone.

"Why did you stop being a lumberjack?"

Windlifter didn't answer right away, humming his song a little bit before speaking.

"It was tiring."

Dusty stared at him, slightly confused at the cryptic response. Why should that sort of work be any more tiring than what he did now? The former crop duster thought for a bit, listening to the birds calling in the trees.

"Do you think you'll ever go back to it?"

"No. I don't believe so."

"Then how come you keep lifting all those logs every day?"

"It is just good form."

Another pause, Dusty considering Windlifter's words. He switched the wheat stalk to the other side of his mouth and laid down fully in the grass, rolling a bit in relish.

"Do you think I could do it?"

"You're descended from farm stock. You're naturally predisposed to good strength and endurance. But it would be difficult. Lifting and carrying isn't part of your design."

"No. No..." Dusty admitted, "But maybe I can pull something."

"Yes. You could do that."

"Do you think you could help me?"

"Yes. But again. It will still be difficult, taking your build into account. It should be worth it, however. Weight training is very rewarding."

The little red and white plane stared up at Windlifter for a few moments, then cracked a big, happy smile.

First things first, they would need to devise a way for Dusty to safely pull a loaded cart without injuring his frame, and so Maru was put in charge of designing a sort of harness that could be hooked up to flat bed trailer.

"Okay that should do it for now," the tug half-breed said as he looped and fastened the last of the straps around Dusty's tail. "Just wear this around for a little while on your down-time. See how it feels."

The harness was going to be a real trial and error project, just the kind that Maru liked. He could speak for himself, as far as Dusty thought and was concerned; it was a dreadfully awkward and uncomfortable thing. It was almost enough to make him reconsider the idea of strength training altogether. And that was just the beginning, as once he was able to get used to wearing the harness, or at least not feel it draped over him as much, or having to fight the spooks of hearing it drag the ground as he moved, the next step was to have him pull a small amount of weight, an old tractor tire to be exact. This would really tell them what kinks needed to be worked out before they put both the harness and Dusty under any real stress.

Dusty waited while the tire, a good sized one but not too large or heavy, was tied to the end of the harness. Once he was given the go ahead, he rolled forward, but just as suddenly stopped after only a few feet, uttering a shaky, "Ooh."

It was highly unnatural for a plane to feel any sort of weight dragging behind them, and his instincts nearly threw him into full panic mode, even though his wheels were still planted solidly on terra firma. He froze, looking over at Windlifter in weary uncertainty, a little embarrassed.

"You're alright," he soothed in that deep, steady voice of his, "I know it must feel very strange. You'll get used to it. Now continue forward."

And so began the tedious process of further developing the harness. As Dusty dragged the tire, he would report to Maru if anything was rubbing, or putting awkward pressure anywhere that could turn dangerous if put against too much strain. Blade supervised when he was able as the days went by and straps were added, removed, re-positioned, or put back on again. He had expressed to Windlifter his worry that such an endeavor might interfere with Dusty's duties as a firefighter, but the larger copter had assured him that it wouldn't, his only elaboration being to say, "Strength training is very rewarding."

Once they were sure that they had finally polished the design of the harness, Windlifter had given the go ahead for Dusty to set himself a goal for the end of the season. He couldn't help but balk at when the little plane told him he wanted to try to pull eight-thousand pounds.

"But that is almost four times your weight."

"Yeah, well if I'm gonna do something else outrageous that I shouldn't be doing than I might as well go big. It's kind of my thing."

Windlifter had given him a hooded stare in an "I'll say." sort of expression. No matter. The Skycrane laid out the plan for him. Dusty was to begin pulling a good-sized flatbed trailer, empty at first, two to three days out of the week to start. He would pull it at two to three reps, with fifty to seventy-five yards counting as one repetition, with five to ten minute breaks in between. Dusty had objected at first, worried that at that slow a pace he wouldn't be able to get to his goal point by the time he had to fly back to Propwash Junction.

"We need to start slow so that you don't injure yourself. You will adapt and start feeling a difference faster than you think."

And so Dusty pulled the empty flatbed up and down the runway for a week, reporting back to Maru at feeling no real problems with the harness rubbing or pressing awkwardly against anything. Every morning before getting to pulling, Windlifter would have him stretch and flex all of his control surfaces, moving them and his landing gear through their respective range of motions to get his hydraulics good and warmed up. After a run through Augerin Canyon to get the rest of himself going, he would start his reps, sipping on a weird, Windlifter-approved concoction in between. He wasn't going to ask what was in it. It didn't taste horrible exactly, it was just sort of bland but with a certain amount of tartness to it, a bit like watered-down orange juice.

It was easy work at first, but then into the second week they began to add weight onto the cart by loading it with steel beams. Still, it wasn't too difficult. The momentum released after getting over that initial hump of friction to get the cart rolling was very gratifying; Dusty was quite enjoying himself. Windlifter kept close watch over and directed Dusty's posture and throttle while pulling.

"Keep your forward movement as smooth as possible," the big green Skycrane advised, "Don't jerk. Just a gradual, even push out. Apply power in a slow, steady increase until you are able to move, and then hold it until you reach the stopping point I marked for you."

Every day since they'd started, as the sun began to make it's descent, Windlifer had been taking Dusty out to the hot springs for a good soak at the end of the day. The Sikorsky, his intakes being much higher on his body, could, and would often, submerge almost completely.

"Hot water is good for your fluid pressure and releases tension in your hydraulics. It is good to soak for a while if you are sore or hurt."

"Well I don't know, Wind, I actually feel pretty good. I haven't been achy or anything the day after training so far."

"That will change once the weight on the trailer begins to equal your own." the larger aircraft warned. "We are keeping ahead of it this way."

The weeks went by with more and more weight added on, until the day that Windlifter had cautioned about inevitably came. Dusty had gotten quite used to the uncomfortable feeling of being held back by the weight of the trailer and steel beams, but when the weight had been raised to the three-thousand pound mark, the crop duster-turned-racer-turned-firefighter lost his nerve.

Maru was hooking Dusty up to the trailer with the harness. This was going to be a big milestone; he was pulling more than his own weight now. Blade had actually come out now and was standing at Dusty's right side, with Windlifter at his left. He fired up his engine, and then began to pull. And he wasn't moving at all. He gradually raised power, trying to help himself along as his wheels spun a bit. Windlifter could sense that he was having trouble, and could see weariness start to creep into the little plane's expression, while Blade could more feel his Bonded Companion's growing distress.

"It's alright, just keep it steady," the red and white helicopter encouraged.

He finally began to move, but very slowly. Both helicopters moved with him at either side. Why was this so hard all of a sudden? Dusty had never had this much trouble pulling anything before. Why wasn't he gaining any momentum? He had had nightmares like this before. _No, no, no, no..._ His increasing, instinctual panic soon overtook him.

"I gotta stop." he said shakily after only moving about twenty feet, "I... I can't do it..."

"You're okay, you're okay," Blade soothed, coming to his side and giving his cheek a few licks.

Windlifter considered his Chief's uncharacteristically affectionate actions, even for his role in their Companionship.

"Would you like to take the weight back down to where it was last week?" he asked Dusty. "And we can try again next week?"

"No, no..." the red and white plane's voice wavered, still looking like he was about to jump out of his paint. "I can't do that... I won't reach my goal in time."

"It's alright." Windlifter assuaged, "We can put it off for a week. You'll just have that much more time to prepare."

"Okay..." Dusty conceded after a few more moments of reluctance, although seeming to deflate a bit in relief as Maru unfastened the harness from him.

For the rest of the week he was back to pulling his own weight on the trailer and fire season was finally going full-bore. There were one or two that were large enough to need the entire team on it. After one of them Dusty found himself in Maru's shop getting his air filter's replaced and making small talk.

"You know what the thing about Windlifter is?" he had been saying, "Windlifter never gets tired. I never see him drink anything. He never eats. Windlifter is an alien."

Maru chuckled from under Dusty's hood.

"He's not real! I mean, I'm over here gasping for oxygen and dying of thirst fighting these fires and he's just floating around doing his drops like it's nothing. How old is that guy anyway?"

"Seventeen." the purple tug replied without missing a beat, his tone lacking any inflection whatsoever.

And all the while training ensued. Dusty was able to get past his jitters and pull the three-thousand pounds that had tripped him up before, and even go on to pulling heavier weights on the trailer the week after. Windlifter, and Blade as much as he was able, were always on hand for guidance or encouragement, the former making small corrections and redirecting here and there when Dusty would fall back and break posture when he started to struggle. And he wasn't just feeling an improvement in his pulling as the weight was piled on, but it was becoming less of a chore to get himself off the ground and into altitude as well, and his acceleration was becoming quite effortless.

"I should have taken this up in my race-training regimen years ago!" he remarked to one of Windlifter's barely-there smiles.

Blade had also noticed a distinct and welcome lack of shenanigans at night by a still energized Dusty trying to bait him to spar, the little plane falling asleep the instant he hit the mat, the AugustaWestland giving his second in command an "I see what you did there" smirk. And to think he ever doubted the big green chopper?

It was of course, nothing that Dusty couldn't handle, between both firefighting and weight-pulling, but it certainly was giving him a swift kick in the tail as he felt each day, fighting the urge to let himself go all the way under the water during his soaks in the hot springs.

And now here he was, on the day the steel beams would be stacked to eight-thousand pounds. The trailer groaned and creaked. The harness flapped and jingled as Maru fastened it over him and hooked it up. Dusty stood on the end of the runway staring off into the distance at the seventy-five yard mark. Everybody on base, Dipper, the jumpers, even Cabbie, were lined up on either side of the runway to witness the feat they they had all at one time or another watched him train for for the last four months. Windlifter gave him the signal and he fired up his engine.

He strained, watching his torque as the needle slowly rotated around it's dial. He kept pushing, and finally after being in the red for a tidy few seconds he began to very slowly move. Everybody let out their breaths, giving little cheers of encouragement to themselves, as if too scared to distract him.

 _Come on!_ , he urges himself as he begins to gain some momentum. _Pull! Pull! Pull for your life!_

The roll gradually goes above a snails pace, and pretty soon the cheers start to grow into a cacaphony of hooting and hollering.

"Yeah!"

"Come on!"

"Go! Pull, Dusty!"

"You can do it!"

"Just a little more! Just a little further kid!"

He could see everyone's face as he passed them, hear the exhilarated cheers as he rolled down the runway, the chalk mark that was now panted over as if to memorialize the milestone becoming more and more visible. Dusty didn't even notice himself slowly speeding up he was so excited to see it, and before he knew it, he was over the threshold.

He came to a stop, panting heavily and nearly collapsing, and was surrounded in an instant by his teammates. The jumpers were all over him as Maru unhooked him from the trailer, nudging and cheering. Dipper was kissing his cheek. But when Dusty saw Windlifter, he smiled widely in tired exuberance, rolling up and jumping onto the big green chopper's face, hugging him in his landing gear.

"Eight-thousand pounds! Eight-thousand pounds, Windlifter!"

The Skycrane had been humming that little song of his, a small smile and a knowing look in those big brown eyes.

"You did it," he said, his tone quietly praising, "You have impressed me beyond all expectation, sohn'-kah. Sometimes the tiniest of us can make the biggest of us look just as small. In that we can all be seen as equals. Well done."

Dusty, still wearing the harness, smiled warmly, touching his nosecone to the broad, blunt nose of Windlifter's. The little plane, escorted by Windlifter, and Blade at his other side, was ushered toward the main hangar where the celebration of his achievement was to continue, the rest of his comrades in arms still cheering and yelling their praises behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note; sohn'-kah is the Lakota term for "Little Brother".
> 
> Next up! Ripslinger gets a refresher course on flying in the next chapter of If You Tame Me, and in our next request we do some reminiscing with Skipper about a certain lady-friend of his. Stay tuned!


End file.
